


no cure is coming, you know

by kouda



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Jonathan Sims Hate Bandwagon, Season/Series 04, jon gets Hungry, like there's been the jon confrontation (tm) but that's about it, other archive staff mentioned but not significantly enough to warrant an actual character tag, set somewhere between mag 146 and mag 156
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:55:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24619447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kouda/pseuds/kouda
Summary: Everyone had already been making jokes about Jon ‘eating statements’, before he had learned of the true nature of the Institute and the Eye, and even before Prentiss’ worms had burrowed deep into his skin and refused to come out.It’s just, well, Jon didn’t really expect them to become true.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	no cure is coming, you know

Jon is hungry.

It’s ironic, he would have thought - if he currently had the capacity to do anything besides try and ignore the gnawing pain that eats at him - that even as the others surround him to tell him off again for taking statements “direct from subject” (for being a monster, though they dance around actually calling him the M-word, today), all Jon can think about is how satisfying it would be to Look at someone, anyone, and feed until he can’t eat anything more.

The burst of information the Eye gives him (there is a woman outside marked by the Lonely, he suddenly Knows, he can feel her footsteps as she walks past the institute, pausing to stare at its polished wooden doors for a long moment before a quick shake of her head keeps her hurrying along) only makes the feeling worse, and Jon can barely keep himself from keeling over at his desk and moaning in pain, a fact that seems to go unnoticed by his three confronters as they glare at him, waiting for something.

Oh. They had asked Jon a question, hadn’t they? He stammers out an apology, says that he missed what they had said. Daisy sighs and Basira’s frown seems to deepen. “I _said_ that you can’t be trusted, Jon. What if you attack someone when we’re not around?”

He doesn’t answer. Melanie picks at an old wound on her arm, scowling and refusing to meet Jon’s eyes. There’s another sigh - Jon can’t tell who it’s from, only that it’s heavy. Which, admittedly, doesn’t narrow down the suspects much.

A couple minutes later, Jon finally looks up from the spot on his desk where his jar of ashes lie and is not surprised to see everyone gone.

**-**

Statements do all but nothing to Jon’s hunger, anymore. They had never been able to completely sate him, but up until recently they had at least been a light snack, of sorts, if the snack had been dry and flavorless, and tasted of sawdust.

Still, it was at least sustenance, it at least would tide Jon over for a bit, leave him feeling - well. Not full, per se, or even temporarily satisfied, but not so achingly hungry that all he could think about is that he needs to leave the Institute and _hunt,_ track down whatever innocent person had made the mistake of walking too close to where he sat inside his office.

But now, when Jon reads aloud in his office for hours a day, digging through boxes of unfiled statements left from Gertrude’s days as the Archivist until he finds a few he Knows are real, each word he says weighs too heavily on his tongue as he distantly longs for something else, something fresh.

(Thomas Cooper, March 2008, wakes each morning to find his bed sunken further into the ground. Alex West, August 1993, sees her dead family every time she closes her eyes. Lucy Nicholson, September 2011, is followed by hordes of ants wherever she goes. Tyler Cole, January 2002, saw his girlfriend melt into wax. All four statements full of fear so tangible that as the words pass through Jon’s mouth he can feel the Buried pressing in on him, taste the smoke rising from the slightly-charred paper. Yet, it is not enough, and the pit that grows ever-deeper in Jon’s stomach growls and makes him wince and grit his teeth as he grabs another statement from the rapidly-diminishing pile.)

It would be so easy, something tells him, to just go outside and find someone with an unheard statement, and no longer would he have to resign himself to scavenging off of old fear that leaves his lips dry and his muscles weak. Jon doesn’t quite know if the stray thought comes from the Eye or his own instincts.

There had been five people he had taken statements from unwillingly, before. Before Basira and Daisy and Melanie had first burst in, demanding what the hell Jon had been doing, Jess Tyrell’s (second) statement in hand. He remembers the five well, even if only Floyd’s words had actually been recorded on tape.

**-**

At first, when he had first woken up from his six-month coma, Jon had theorized that the new, seemingly-perpetual hunger that sat in the depths of his bones was a result of him over-using his powers, that Knowing too much and healing too fast had required a burst of energy that his meager diet couldn’t sustain, but when he had laid eyes upon the man in the store and felt a pull towards him, felt the Knowledge that there were words hiding just under the man’s skin, felt his own mouth open as static hissed and the compulsion sat just on the tip of the Archivist’s tongue-

Everyone had already been making jokes about Jon ‘eating statements’, before he had learned of the true nature of the Institute and the Eye, and even before Prentiss’ worms had burrowed deep into his skin and refused to come out. It’s just, well, Jon didn’t really expect them to become true.

Jon does still eat human food - _no, just food,_ he hastily corrects himself - but it tastes bitter and slides down his throat harshly, and choking down even a single bite of his sandwich, or a single sip of tea, is such an ordeal that he almost doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not like he can convince Basira or Melanie that he’s at all human anymore, It’s not like Daisy particularly cares whether or not Jon has lunch, and it’s definitely not as if Martin would even notice, anyways.

Still, despite the innate wrongness that he feels, the food does help. To an extent. Well...not really, but it feels like it does, to Jon, and when he can actually manage to keep whatever lunch he’s attempting to eat for the third day in a row down for more than an hour, there’s a fierce sort of determination and tenacity that he feels, disobeying what the Eye wants for him. What he wants for himself.

**-**

Jon doesn’t sleep anymore, if he can help it, but one mundane day, a statement newly-recorded laying on his desk, not filling the hole that is Jon’s hunger; Jon feels his eyes collapsing under their own weight-

(“He’s all eyes,” he can hear Tyrell saying, though Jon had never actually listened to that tape. “It’s not him, is it? Not really.” Martin distantly asks, though now Jon can see the glint of suspicion in his eyes.)

\- and with a panic, snaps them open again, not ready to give another nightmare to everyone who he had fed from, only to find himself outside the Institute, staring at a woman across the street.

He finds himself crossing over to her, and she meets his gaze with a terrified look of her own, eyes wide.

And suddenly, the Archivist is no longer hungry.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes... i think jon should suffer a bit more. as a treat.
> 
> this is my first published TMA work, and i really hope i didn't butcher anyone's characterization too much!! comments appreciated very much, please let me know any criticism if you have it! 
> 
> (title from Mr. Fear by SIAMÉS)


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